Surrender

Dear Mom,

It was on this date that I married your grandchildren’s father. I thought he was the one. After one failed marriage behind me, I really didn’t want to have to go through that again. We would have been married 28 years. Egads. All four of my marriages added up just barely tilt over half that… most from this last marriage. Yeah!

The marriage with the father of my children seems like a life time ago surviving five years. Technically we made it for six years, but we weren’t living together on that sixth anniversary. Rita was just six months old when I packed up her and the other two and half the contents of our home.

I remembered waking up that Saturday morning and he asked me what I had planned for the day. I told him that in about an hour my family would be coming to help me move out. He was flabbergasted. Didn’t think it was a good idea. I told him he should have thought about that when I had said it was either her or me. Guess he didn’t think I had what it takes to walk out with three small kids, no home, no job.

It all worked out because I surrendered—fully. Somewhere deep inside I knew it was what I had to do and I had to trust completely whatever the outcome.

I learned surrender. For that, I will be eternally grateful.